There In the Pages
by Pandorama
Summary: Deleted and rewritten scenes from "One for the Ages."
1. Special Skills

A/N: As I won't have a chance to update the main story for awhile, I promised (was guilt-tripped into promising) I'd post something in the meantime. These will be various scenes that were either cut from chapters, changed significantly, or scenes that never made it into chapters at all. Most of them are kind of romantic, bordering on maudlin. I'll try to post in order of where they'd fall in the story. Some will overlap or conflict with other scenes (things that were said, done, or established) so I don't know that they'd really be canon to One for the Ages. But it's something. Kind of?

* * *

**"Special Skills"**

_Deleted Scene from Chapter 3, "Parachute"_

I'm scheduled to start work on Monday, and so we try to make the most of the weekend, because who knows when we'll have time off at the same time once I'm working and Luka starts working. Whenever that is. I can tell he's antsy to find a job, if only because I know he doesn't like the idea of being unemployed while I'm working and we have a mortgage, and there's at least a little chivalry and ego mixed in there, the whole need to provide deal that men have. Although, my new salary is pretty nice, and I remind him that he doesn't have to go back to work right away. He shrugs, and says he loves spending time with Joe, but he's been working almost constantly since he was fourteen and he doesn't like the feeling of _not_ working.

I ask him what he thinks he wants to do, and if he'll go back to hospice work.

"No." He shakes his head. "I think…I needed to do that, at least for a little while, but it's finished. How do you say it – out of my system."

I get it, what it was for him, a redemption of sorts for not being with his father when he died. And I'm glad he feels like he's gotten past that need, because there's something kind of gloomy and terrifying about it, to me. I see death plenty in the emergency room, but I feel like choosing to be around that, choosing to watch people die, is a little bit masochistic, and god knows I don't want Luka torturing himself. It seemed very much like penance, for him, and I'd rather he not have to witness death with his hands tied, not able to intervene. I know him, and I know part of why he chose emergency medicine is because he can do something, and I'm glad he wants to be back there, doing that.

"I think I still…I don't know…need a little change. I have a friend at the Tufts teaching hospital that said there was a faculty position, working in the hospital but also lecturing. I think…I'd like to do that. To teach."

"I think you're an excellent teacher." We're in bed, and I'm leaning up against him, kind of snuggled in, and I don't mean it to sound flirtatious but it does.

He chuckles. "I think you're biased."

"I could write you a recommendation." This time, I'm flirting on purpose.

"I'm not sure that would help. Considering the conflict of interest, I mean."

"So I shouldn't attach a list of your 'special skills'?"

"Well…only if we review those skills beforehand." He eyes me.

"Honestly." I sit up and try to force myself to stop looking at him like he's chocolate cake. "I think you'd make a great teacher. I mean – you are a great teacher."

He looks at me for a few moments, like he's processing it, and then nods. "I'll set up an interview."

"Okay." I curl up against him again, and pretty soon we're fooling around like teenagers, and then he kind of stops, and looks at me, with this concerned expression.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

His eyebrows furrow a little. "Is this…okay? I mean…I know we've been…together a lot lately, and I love that, but…I just want to be sure."

My mouth opens a little, but I really have no idea what to say, so I just sort of blink at him stupidly, until finally I manage to speak. "Yes. I – of course it is."

He picks up my hand and strokes it, very gently. "I just…I know when I came back from Croatia…you didn't want to. I don't want to push you."

"Luka." I reach up and stroke his cheek, and he leans into my hand, and then covers it with his own. "I wasn't myself, then. I was drinking, and I felt…I just couldn't get past how bad I felt. I didn't feel like I could."

"You do now?"

"Yes."

He nods. "Okay. I just wanted to ask."

"Thank you for asking. Really."

"I'd never want to hurt you, Abby." He turns his head a little and kisses my palm.

"I know." I lean in, and he gets the picture and cranes his head down to kiss me. "I love you."

He wraps an arm around me, and pulls me close. "I love you, too."


	2. Viral

A/N: My apologies for not adding to this since I began it - it's hard to part with cut scenes since I always want to hoard them to use in future chapters. Anyway, this is a scene cut from an unspecified chapter. It was supposed to lead into an arc, but - well, it's complicated. Let's go ahead and say it was because the actors were unavailable, since I definitely have them perform all the scenes in front of a small audience in my living room (which is also my bedroom and my office because that's life).

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**"Viral"**

I'm sitting in traffic, going absolutely nowhere, when my phone rings. There's a brief flicker of optimism that it's Luka, but no such luck. I'm not too disappointed to see the name on the caller ID, though.

"Hey." I smile. "I was starting to think you'd become too big a star to remember us little people."

"I'm not sure eight minutes a week on the local morning show qualifies me as a star."

"I don't know, I think once you've gotten your own viral video, you've pretty much hit the big time."

I hear a sigh. "I asked that guy three times if he was afraid of needles, and he promised me he'd be fine."

"Men don't like to admit their weaknesses. At least until they pass out on live television."

"Well, I've told them I'm not giving flu shots on the air anymore."

"Probably a good idea. How are things, besides being an Internet sensation?"

"Henry's figured out that Disney World exists."

"Uh-oh."

"I'm living a nightmare."

"I can imagine. A four-year-old at Disney World? I'd kill myself."

"Five-year-old."

"No. He can't be five. I delivered him, like…last week."

"Last week, five years ago."

"You're kidding me. I can't even…god. I'm so _old_. Not to mention a jerk for forgetting. What didn't he already get for his birthday?"

"Don't you dare buy him a present. Sandy would kill me if she knew how spoiled he is."

"Joe could give him a run for his money."

"Speaking of babies born yesterday, I got the Christmas card. He's huge."

"I know. It's terrifying. He can _talk_. And he has opinions. I don't know how that's even possible."

"Well, he's your son. I'd be surprised if he didn't have opinions."

Traffic starts to move incrementally, and I realize my knuckles have eased up on the steering wheel a little. I don't think I realized how much I needed a friendly voice right now. "I know, but…I have no idea when he went from being this tiny little thing to a _person_."

"I know what you mean."

"How's Courtney?"

There's a pause. "We're not together anymore."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We're still friends. It's better that way. It was good to feel something again after Sandy, but I'm not sure I'm ready to let go of her. I think I'm okay with it just being me and Henry for now. And she still spends time with Henry. He doesn't have any aunts or uncles, so it's nice for him."

"Yeah. Well, I'm glad, then, I guess. And who knows. Luka and I were better off as friends for a while. Or at least, learning to be friends."

"How is that big Croat?"

"Bad time to ask. We're definitely _not_ friends right now."

"That's the nice thing about being a lesbian. No men to deal with."

"Yeah, after Richard, I contemplated it. If it _were_ a choice, I'd have made it back then." Of course, I stopped feeling that way when Luka came along.

She laughs. "Well, I was actually calling to let you know I'd be in town next month, and ask if you wanted to get a cup of coffee. We can spend the whole time complaining about men."

"Really? That's great. Some kind of news story?"

"There's a choral competition that my biological mother is singing in. She invited me to come see it."

"Oh. Wow, that's…I didn't even know you were in touch with her."

"Yeah. She contacted me out of the blue about six months ago. She's still having some trouble with the idea of me being gay, but she's getting there. It's…we're working on it. She asked if she could meet Henry."

"That's really great. And if you need a place to stay, or you want to bring Henry – "

"Thanks. I'm still not sure if I'm ready for that. Or if he is."

"Well, either way. Our room filled with boxes we still haven't unpacked is…su casa."

We chat a little more, about nothing in particular, for a few more minutes, and then traffic starts to move, and I tell her I have to go. It's been a couple of months, though, since I've talked to her, and I get to work feeling a hell of a lot better than when I left the house this morning.


	3. Afraid

A/N: Merry Christmas and temporally similar holidays or solstice observances. This would have taken place right after the end of Chapter 15 of One for the Ages ("One Diamond, One Heart"), on Christmas Eve, so, timing-wise, it seemed appropriate to post tonight.

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**"Afraid"**

His head is resting in my lap, and I'm just sitting there, stroking his hair and watching the light glinting off my ring. "Can I ask you something?" I whisper.

"Mmhmm." He rolls over so that his head is facing toward me. I can feel his breath on my stomach.

"You don't have to answer, if you don't want – or if you don't know – but I just…was there a moment when you…knew?"

"Knew what?" He looks up at me, and after a minute, it seems to register. "Knew I loved you?"

I nod.

He smiles, and I feel this little jolt go through me. All of a sudden, I'm not so sure that talking was the way to go, here.

"Which story do you want to hear?"

"What do you mean?"

He moves his hand to rest on my waist, and even through the blanket, the feeling gives me goosebumps. "I mean do you want to know when I knew after we broke up that I loved you, or when I knew I'd fallen in love with you again?"

Jesus. I'm not even sure I can process how obscenely romantic that is. I actually look away from him, I'm blushing so badly. My voice is a little high-pitched. "The second one."

He clears his throat a little. "You remember that Christmas morning, after you told me…about the baby? And I woke up and you weren't there?"

I'm still running my fingers through his hair. "I wasn't not there, Luka. I was throwing up."

"I know. I just mean – for a second, it scared me, that maybe you'd left. And I – anyway, I went and sat with you in the bathroom. And you looked at me, this…look, like you were so…terrified. You said I didn't have to sit there with you."

"I remember." Actually, my exact words were that he didn't have to sit there watching me throw up and holding my hair back for me.

"I guess it just – it hit me, that you thought I was going to leave. Whether it was because we didn't have the baby or something else, you didn't…I realized that I was afraid you'd decide you didn't want the baby, but I was more afraid…terrified…you wouldn't want to be together."

"Luka," I whisper.

"I guess…that was when I knew the most important thing was not losing you. Baby or no baby."

I don't say anything, mostly because I can't think of a response. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't that. I mean, that's been one of those things, wondering if he really would have wanted to be together if I'd have gone through with it, that's been there, in the back of my mind, all along. And no matter how many times he could tell me otherwise – not that I've brought it up, but still – I had sort of resigned myself to always having to wonder. Except, now, I do know, because it's not like he could have rehearsed that. Not just because he wouldn't do that, but because he's a really terrible liar.

A thought occurs to me. "Wait a minute – you realized you loved me while you were watching me throw up?"

He looks up at me, laughing. "Sorry. I guess it's not very romantic."

"I mean…it is, in a…disgusting sort of way."

"At least now you know…the 'better or worse, sickness and health' part…you don't have to worry."

"I guess I don't." I brush his hair back from his forehead, letting my nails graze his scalp just a little, and lean over until I can kiss him. I feel the hand on my waist slide further around my back and with his other hand, he runs his fingers up and around from my collarbone to the base of my spine and then tangles in my hair. "Mmm," I murmur. He lets me pull away a little and he looks almost amused. "What?"

"Nothing." He shifts a little and moves his hand to push the hem of my camisole up enough to expose my stomach, and then turns his head and presses his mouth against my skin. "Why were you afraid to give me the letter?"

"Hmm?"

"The one you said I could read. You said you chickened out. I was…you know…wondering."

"Oh." I can still feel his breath on me. "Um…I just…" I bite my lip and run my fingers through his hair a few more times. "I think it was just that it was - I told you about a lot of things I'd been thinking and feeling and it was - I don't really know how to describe it. I guess I was just afraid if I told you everything and it didn't change how you felt, then that would be…it."

He nods a little, and doesn't meet my eyes, just stares sort of absently at my stomach as he traces the line of my C-section scar with his thumb. After a minute, he clears his throat. "I'm sorry."

"Luka - "

"No, I want - I don't mean, you know - we don't have to get into all that. I'm just sorry that you didn't…know."

"Know what?"

He shifts again, and leans up so he's eye level with me. "My feelings didn't change to start with. It's not - none of it changed how I felt about you. I was scared, and I was upset, but - I didn't stop loving you, or stop wanting you, or any of that."

I don't say anything, because there's no real response to that. Except to kiss him.

Which I do.

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**Note:** If you'd like to see the letter, go to http (colon fwdslash fwdslash) i60 (period) tinypic (period) com (fwdslash) 2vmsx2s (period jpg) minus the parentheses, spaces, and replacing the appropriate words with the appropriate punctuation. I figure if TPTB can post the "Dear Abby" letter (which in my opinion, was creative sewage), I can post Abby's letter to Luka (which I'm hoping is not creative sewage).


End file.
